Page 114 of Dark Ugly Places

Martha was there. The crow wasn’t a crow at all. It was her. Her voice. Her question. Her suggestion, taking root and making the unthinkable happen.

Had I not listened to her, I could have stopped it. I could have pulled my family back from that car. I could have saved us all.

I can see it now. The darkness, even in all its confusion, has illuminated the truth for me. Bambi and I are not so different after all. Victims of a twisted, wrong kind of love. Victims of cruelty. Victims now of Martha’s own agenda. That’s why there is no getting even. There is only more and more pain if I don’t get out.

“Ben!” I cry out his name, an animal-like wail. “Can you hear me? Ben, I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t your fault, Nicola. And besides, all is not lost yet.

“You knew?”

I feel him now, his voice a breath on my ear. Of course I knew. I’ve been waiting for you to see it, too.

“How could she do this?”

How? You know how. She wanted what she never had, what you long for now. The light is hers, and she’s not going to give it up.

“I need to save Emmy! I have to get out! I have to stop her!”

There’s only one way to do that.

“Tell me, for God’s sake!” My voice turns sharp and cracks, and suddenly I am speechless.

You know, Nicola. You have always known.

Before I can form a thought and hold onto it, set it free, I tumble back into the darkness—the black casket of my mind—and all the lights go out.

50

Bambi

Her hands grip the wheel, sweat beneath her palms. The street pulsates with energy, the feeling of too many cars, people on the sidewalk. The house is surrounded. Thankfully, someone called security, and two guards stand at the gates, keeping back as many paparazzi as possible from swarming the front gate. Bambi pulls up, eager to escape as the flashes angle toward her, the quick click, click, click of their cameras. A scream bubbles up in her throat, and her head spins as she pulls into the garage, the roof of the car barely missing the door. She shuts it as quickly as possible behind her. A security guard approaches the garage and knocks as she gets out of her car.

“Mrs. Redfern? Are you all right?”

She nods, then realizes he cannot see her. “Yes,” she calls hesitantly. “I’m fine.”

“We’ll have this shut down as soon as possible. Please set the house alarm when you get inside.”

“Yes,” she calls through the door. “I will.”

Bambi stumbles into the house and kicks off her shoes at the door. Her legs quiver as she wanders from room to room, pacing, checking. She sets the alarm, then stashes the bottle of Macallan in the kitchen. A quick scan reveals three other bottles. She grabs them and stashes them far back in Lucita’s cleaning supply closet, somewhere Jason would never think to look. She can’t risk taking them to the trash outside and being seen. Or being photographed with them. To think of it!

Her mind races. Where are the EpiPens? There was always one in Jason’s travel bag and one under their bathroom sink upstairs, where he keeps his shaving cream and new razors. One downstairs in the office desk drawer. And one in the kitchen. She checks the junk drawer and finds it, remembering the moment he made her stash it in there last Christmas for safekeeping, just in case.

Perfect. Easy access. Martha’s words ring in her head: Jason will be fine. This is just a distraction.

Bambi takes out two glasses from the cabinet. She checks the ice machine one last time. A quick part of the curtains reveals two more paparazzi across the street, sitting on the hoods of their cars. One of them is smoking. He looks up at her when the curtain moves, and Bambi flaps it closed and collapses into the breakfast nook. From the living room, the TV news turns on, full volume.

“Fucking A!” Jason shouts from the living room, and something crashes against the far wall. The interview will happen soon, but not soon enough. The press are all over them now, bloodhounds circling in for a kill.

When Lucita comes downstairs, Bambi takes her arm and guides her to the back door, looking out to the guesthouse and the pool. She holds her hand and says the words Martha told her to say, but in a softer voice so it won’t frighten her.

“Lucita, you need to leave. I’m afraid we have to let you go. Starting today.”

At first, her brown eyes flash angry, then a wave of sadness breaks on their surface. Tears form, baubles in their corners. “Por favor, Miss Bambi, why? Is everything okay?”

Bambi shakes her head, unable to speak. She cannot believe it has come to this.